I'm clocking in and preparing to head for my post as they tartly inform me all's down, and mulling that, realized and replied, "it's Friday the 13th--what did you expect?!" And all ruefully laughed.
If Only Superstitions...What?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXVII)
If I forgot the day, how all from thence
Reminds me is't? The system's down sans bail,
Where Friday is "the thirteenth," whose detail
Means naught 'cept an excuse for ill from hence?!
The day is Thine, oh LORD. The evil sense
We canna shift's reminder to avail
Us and redeem the time, lest we too fail
Before Thee, Who gives all things; our Defense.
I only knew twas Friday, ere in tour
Werk blew all out of course; what shall I do?
Somehow where shadows sweep across as t'were
In play, the weekend's sense of freedom to
Effect in tow, as most leave early, poor
Though feeling carefree, LORD, how I need You.
13Sep24
These Cherished Hours' Slow Waltz
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXIX)
Now dead leaves gather into piles, a sense
Of even Fall's denouement, like to scale,
Thus hard in tow, where yellow haunts the tale
Of massy trees red subtly murmurs hence
Frae, warning that the fête will, sans defense,
Be oer far sooner than we liked: avail
Me now?! I am too busy, tired, sans bail
As ever, with a fainting heart. Oh whence?
The hymn "I'd Rather Have [lo] Jesus--" fer
Direction, circles through my noggin, blue
Skies fraught wi' torn white streaks where winds bestir
The changing leaves to whispers. Aught we knew
Is slipping twixt our fingers 'gain. What were
We in, that aught undoes us? I need You.
15Sep24a
Vain. Yes, you may label me that, yet have mercy?
What ARE You Dreaming of Again?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXX)
Mine auburn tresses still glint red t'avail
In fragile shafts of golden sunlight, whence
Their salt-and-pepper sprinkling seems fr'intents
A notice of what is, heav'ns' eye th'all hail
Late needed to display mine Irish? Frail
As lo, my temper with By Dand for sense,
I'm Sco'ish, yet sae Norman, my defense
Thee, LORD; put these up, and I've Swedish bail.
Croatian to add flavour, what, as t'were
Is left t'unravel aught we swore was true?
If only meekness and humil'ty, Your
Fear likewise, LORD, reigned in me likeas to
Ensure I'd walk, LORD, faithful 'fore Thee. Poor
Though fleshly weakness, all I have is You.
15Sep24b
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 21st, 2024 14:27
- Comment from author about the poem: If only my old Thinkpad hadn't died or if I'd only posted the old sonnet of mine titled something like "Specimen 238" you'd know part of the reason for my silence. That said, how's this for whatever?
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
Great write
Why, thank you so very much!
You're welcome
You have an extraordinary talent for these sonnet, love everything about them, now you're just intimidating lol kudos for every line on this page.
🌹 The queen of Sonnet 🌹
Aww, you're just too kind and sweet. Thank you so very, very much dear sweet Teddy!
❤️
I have never dared attempt a sonnet .. I have a great deal of respect for you, your muse and your pen .. all good things, Neville
Why, thank you so VERY much, Sir. I appreciate your kind commentary.
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